


how does it feel to treat me like you do

by girlsarewolves



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captivity, Gen, One Shot, Other, Random & Short, Villains Winning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-20 23:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17631431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: Gears grinding together, metal against metal and the thud of each heavy footstep; these are the sounds Carly has grown accustomed to within the last year or so of her life. The sharp sound of machines moving; clicking, whirring, sparks. The constant hum of engines never quieting, vibrating through her like a giant breathing down her neck.





	how does it feel to treat me like you do

**Author's Note:**

> what the hell, brain? no, seriously, wth? anyway not really Carly/Megatron unless you squint/want to see it that way?

* * *

Gears grinding together, metal against metal and the thud of each heavy footstep; these are the sounds Carly has grown accustomed to within the last year or so of her life. The sharp sound of machines moving; clicking, whirring, sparks. The constant hum of engines never quieting, vibrating through her like a giant breathing down her neck.

 

To say nothing of the smells; oil and gasoline. The occasional whiff of burnt rubber and exhaust. The first few months it was like living in that moment of stepping out of a car at a gas station.

 

Carly hardly notices anymore.

 

For the first four months, after Chicago, it was mercifully only the Autobots. Bumblebee mostly; sometimes Optimus, sometimes others that - try as she might - she could never keep the names of straight. The more time that passed after Chicago, the more they were all around, and Carly started to refer to them, privately, by their colors or vehicle type.

 

Oh, she had lived with Brains and Wheelie, grown accustomed to their quiet hums that you couldn't feel, couldn't hear if they weren't near or the television was on; the faint scent of motor oil and hot metal, but a few well placed air fresheners and some scented candles burned regularly kept that in check. There were no ways around the constant presence of the larger ones - the soldiers, the fighters, lingering to protect Sam, to protect her, for their allegiance to the Autobots.

 

She never signed up for any of this; she thinks, sometimes, about Mikaela. About a girl Sam wouldn't talk about much, but who was just as involved in his earlier missions with Bumblebee and Optimus and the others. She hopes that Mikaela received guards, too. Sam never bothered to ask; Optimus never bothered to mention anything.

 

Then again, what good did guards do her? Maybe Sam's ex would be better off without any strange, driverless vehicles trailing after, drawing the wrong kind of attention to her. Maybe she cut ties and disappeared off the Decepticon radar.

 

Carly sometimes wishes she had done the same.

 

A heavy hand places itself carefully - almost, she thinks while fighting back a shudder of fear, gingerly - on her shoulders, the claw-like metal thumb stroking her hair like one might stroke the back of a cat's head. And she remembers, bitterly, that it isn't her connection to Sam that landed her here, at the feet of a megalomaniac, his hand on her to remind her she lives because she's amusing; because, even in his twisted mind, he can admit she did him a favor.

 

"If you don't mind, I just ate. I'd like to keep my lunch down," she spits out, because her tongue is her only weapon - a double-edged sword that got her here in the first place, but the only one she has available to her.

 

Megatron laughs, a deep, thunderous sound that rumbles through him and shakes her, shakes the ground around them. It garners a few curious looks from the other Decepticons near them, but they soon return their focus back to their work. Their master does not take kindly to dawdling workers or gawking onlookers.

 

"I see a little spark has come back. You've been quiet the last few days; conserving your energy for the right time, I suppose?" His voice is grating, taunting - and most insultingly, sincere in its amusement. With the repairs and renewed strength he sported upon his return after fleeing Optimus' anger in Chicago came a genuine enjoyment of her scathing remarks and taunts, replacing the anger brought on by his weakened state.

 

It drives Carly insane.

 

Roughly she shirks out from under his hand, the metal biting into her flesh even through her shirt, and stands up, turning around as she does. "For you? Hardly. You aren't worth it. But as I said, I would like to avoid vomiting up my meal, since it was one of the few you've given me that didn't taste like regurgitated oil and army rations."

 

Red eyes, burning hot, focus hard on her, and there's a tension to his giant, thrumming form that makes her think maybe she finally did annoy him. But he huffs out another laugh - everything around vibrating again, and he tucks a single metallic talon under her chin. "Hardly your most creative insult. But I certainly don't want to deal with your human fluids." And then the talon is gone, his hand moving away, and the tension dissipates. The amusement does not.

 

Carly struggles not to shake, locks her knees so she does not fall to them. She keeps her chin up, eyes defiant; even if it amuses him, it still lets her retain some small measure of pride, of dignity. Back straight, she turns away and settles back down and closes her eyes. She hates the hot wetness that seeps out, the tightness to her throat that causes swallowing to hurt.

 

She wonders if somewhere out there, Sam is still alive, still with the Autobots. She thinks he is; he must be, otherwise she feels Megatron would have taunted her with news of his demise. Perhaps even dangle Sam's remains in front of her, just to see her reaction. She wonders if Sam thinks she's still alive; she wonders if Mikaela is back involved, if maybe they're together again.

 

Sometimes, Carly isn't so sure Mikaela was the cruel one to leave. Maybe she saw this coming and ran, ran as far and as fast as she could when she realized it would never end, not before something horrible happened, something that couldn't be undone.

 

It isn't Sam's fault. It isn't even the Autobots' fault. It's his. The arrogant, malicious machine that put a collar on her neck instead of killing her, because she inspired him to stand up to Sentinal Prime, help see to his defeat.

 

"I hate you," she whispers.

 

Megatron does not react. He hears her, she knows - sometimes she's half convinced he hears her if she thinks too loudly. But he does not respond. Another declaration of her hatred goes unanswered. It is the one thing he lets her keep, her bone-deep hatred; untouched, and free of mockery.

 

Deep down, she knows it's the one thing they have in common.

* * *

 

 


End file.
